Ag Borradh
by Sir-Anathema
Summary: It was a caprice of fate: On the brink of certain death, it was decided that he would not die a villain.
1. PRELUDE

**Author's Note:** This is a "What if Scar had lived?" type fanfiction. Chronologically it takes place sometime during the second film, but in an alternate universe where Kopa exists and Kiara was never born. Do note that the prelude is a short poem of sorts, but the rest will be fully-fledged chapters. With that aside, on with the story! (Reviews, good or constructively critical are most welcome.)

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><p>PRELUDE -<p>

Avarice that ensconse thee,

impetus to kill thy brother

hearken to what I have to say,

for not all is lost.

Ephemeral was that of your wicked rule,

and notwithstanding those many toils you prevailed

imprimus, most of all you had failed.

A kingdom once glorious,

torn asunder by your iniquitous paws

to dust and desolation,

decrepit and emaciated -

and those once whom you called family

suffered and nearly died from you,

your choler and ignorant greed.

But I, nor we, cannot blame you for what you had done -

your vision, though corrupt, was not entirely deprave.

Yea, for yours was a vision of peace

dreamt of an equalitarian world where all things beneath the sun

united together in concord

and veritably it might have been different if not for your wanton lust,

your impudent whimsy.

Even if not destroyed by your own blood

it would only be a matter of time afore you destroyed yourself,

marked your own grave,

interred yourself in shadow -

and when future generations thought back upon your despotic reign

you'd be naught more than a fleeting thought

a tenuous trail of dust amidst an imperturbable storm

and mayhap further down you'd be forgotten entirely,

superseded by greater kings and more terrible despots -

alas, if that was to be your fate.

But Aethereal eyes have cast their gaze upon you,

lying still as a rock, ground beneath incarnadine with your own blood -

they have chosen a different fate for you,

and anon the time will come when you rise again,

not as a despot, but as a Hero and a Savior

to coronate your name, to become the embodiment of perpetual good

so that all the kingdoms might look to you with reverence

and enamored hearts.


	2. MPIRA

MPIRA -

They had been plodding on for days without food or water, their hopes only bolstered when cracked earth and jagged sand gave way to patches of grass and small, tenuous trees. Even then, the prospect of finding fresh water did next to naught for Babalyya, who had been struggling for the last few miles or so. Thrice they had to stop, and thrice Mpira had to scavenge for something, anything for her son to eat; he might've been fully grown, but he hadn't been acclimated to starvation such as she had. When she thought of it, life had been easy for Babalyya up until Perisys superseded the throne. After that their pride fell apart, some taking up sides with the kingslayer, others going off in search of new lands. Some, such as Gorgyl, went rogue and were never heard of again.

Initially, it hadn't been too much of a burthen; the late King Tamire was old and infirm, whereas Perisys was young, sinewy, and stalwart. He could govern a pride just as well as Tamire could in his younger days, and in some nuances he even proved himself better - but that didn't stop the revolt. Luna, her daughter Namaluna, and Liathen all sought to avenge their fallen king despite Mpira's gentle reproach against it. _'He might be young, but he is powerful. If he had the capacity in his heart to overthrow what had essentially been his adoptive father, there's no telling what he'll do to us if he catches scent of this.' _she had warned, but to no avail. The night before the planned revolt, Mpira and her son had stolen off underneath the cover of darkness and a speckled, twilit sky.

They came upon a swarth hidden 'neath the umbrage of tall acacia trees and decided to give themselves a moment's respite. Quietly, Babalyya slumped down and rolled onto his side, chest heaving slowly as he took long yet ragged breaths. "Babalyya," she said as she touched a paw to his shoulder, "we're almost there."

He looked up at her slowly. "Are you sure?"

"I'm positive." she replied with a smile. "Stay here and I'll find you something to eat."

"When we make it...if we make it, don't ever ask me to do this again."

Mpira bounded off, leaping over withered shrubs and wending her way through arid brush. Once or twice she spotted a lizard scuttling along the ground or flying from branch to branch, but those were too fast for her. She needed to find something larger and more uncouth. _'Like a foal,'_ she thought.

The lioness finally came to a clearing, at the end of which was a shallow tarn surrounded by pallid weeds. On the far side of that lied a gazelle carcass, being torn apart and consumed by a gray spotted-hyena. From where she was standing she could make out a long ebon mane that went from the tip of his brow to the center of his back. She shuddered slightly, then began to back away; she'd normally be able to defeat one in single combat, but the voyage had left her weak - and against one of such hale and imperious stature, she didn't think she stood a chance.

Mpira was almost back into hiding when the thing saw her. It lifted its head, looking her directly in the eyes with sullen disinterest. For a few moments they stared at each other, then the hyena, deciding she wasn't a threat, went back to his meal. In that moment, she decided that being obsequious was her best option. "Pardon, sir..." she managed weakly, "might I please-"

"Steal my kill?" he interrupted, "No. But if you'd like to share, I don't mind if you don't."

"It's not for me; it's for my son. We've travelled a long ways and he's very weak - if you could just spare something...anything, I'd be more than gra-"

"You don't need to fawn." the hyena said as he rived off another piece of flesh, "Take a leg, take two - it doesn't matter."

Mpira approached the carcass warily, keeping her eyes on him the whole time. She tore off a chunk of leg and gave him a curt nod, turning to go back. Before she took three steps away he spoke. "So where are you from?"

Hesitantly, she dropped the piece of meat and replied, "We're from beyond the Torrid Lands."

"An awfully long way for two lions, don't you think?"

"We had no choice."

"If you say so. I shan't ply." the hyena said with a sidewards glance, "But what of your son? He must be terribly dehydrated. Once I had crossed the Torrid Lands all on my own, and by the end of the journey I was parched. If what you say about your son is true, then he'll need water - and lots of it."

Hours later, the three of them found themselves atop a high bluff which overlooked most of the east. The hyena had introduced himself as Makazi, and him and Babalyya became quick friends. Mpira remained silent throughout, as she didn't have much to add to the conversation.

"So tell me more of yourself." Babalyya said as they walked ahead at a sprightly pace.

"There's not much to say, really." The hyena grinned, "I'm known by many as 'The Sentinel' for my innate habit of watching others from afar. My friends are few, my enemies none, and not a single person can claim that I've harmed them - though they might lie about it!"

"You sound like a nice guy, but why do you watch people?"

"A person who sees little knows little, but a person who sees much knows much."

"And you know much?" Babalyya said with a chuckle.

"Hopefully I'm getting there."

Two more miles had found them in rich, virid grasslands spotted with rolling hills. At the top of one of them sat a droll edifice; seemingly impossible in composition, yet a cynosure to most things beneath the sun. "Pride Rock," Makazi announced with an oblique grin, "home to the Pride-Landers. Formerly it belonged to King Mufasa, whom was usurped by his brother Scar, and currently it belongs to King Simba and his wife Nala. You'll find the common-folk to be more than hospitable, but not towards my kind I'm afraid; and so I should be off!"

"What's wrong with your kind?" Babalyya said.

"Hyenas are frowned upon in most parts of the Pride Lands, it being a lion-centred-community and all. King Scar didn't help much with our image either, but that's a story for another time." he replied, mock-sorrow lining his voice.

Before he left, Makazi had given them a brief tour of the land; he showed them where to drink, where to hunt, the various dens that the prides inhabited, and even where to avoid. _'The gorge is a dangerous place,' _he had said, _'That's where King Mufasa was thrown to his death - and it also happens to be prone to stampedes.'_

The sun was still hot by late afternoon, and the incessant din of heat bugs didn't help to ameliorate that condition. Along the way, Mpira and Babalyya had managed to hunt down a few things on which to snack, including a groundhog, a newborn zebra, and even a paltry sum of meerkats - one of Babalyya's favourite meals, to be certain.

Fully satiated, the two lions sat for a while and enjoyed their surroundings. "I'm beginning to like this place." Mpira commented as they watched a herd of buffalo saunter along.

"Let's just hope that these 'Pride-Landers' Makazi spoke of will take to liking us. I'd hate to have come all this way to be chased off."

Babalyya had always been quick to voice his fears, his mother noted. "I'm sure they're...amiable people."

"They'd better be."

Mpira smiled slightly at that. Her son could be stalwart, hot-headed, and obstinate at times - but such virtues were the very things that governed kingdoms and won battles. _'He'd make a good king if he was slightly less arrogant.' _After all, arrogance warranted destruction.

"We should find some place to rest." she said.

"I'm all for that!" Babalyya replied with a grin.

The two of them climbed down and away from the cliff, into the lower Pride Lands where rolling hills stretched on as far as the eye could see. Pride Rock, austere in all its splendor, loomed over them like some ancient beacon - Babalyya could only conjecture as to how it ended up there, and the sheer magnitude of it was something that neither of them could readily express in words. "You should go on ahead for a bit." Mpira suggested as she lowered herself onto the grass.

"Why, are you alright?"

"Just tired from the voyage, that's all."

Babalyya gave a quick nod to his mother, then loped off into the distance. Sighing, she nestled her head between her paws and let her eyes fall shut, her mind filled with limpid images and vague memories. It seemed so long ago that Babalyya and Perisys were both cubs, gamboling around without a care. _'They grew up too fast,' _she thought to herself, _'and old Tamire never gave his son a proper chance. It's no wonder that Perisys turned into such a dour individual.'_

_'He's not my son.' _Tamire had said to her one morning, _'Finding him doesn't make him my responsibility.'_

_'He's just a cub.'_

_'An Outlander cub.'_

_'That shouldn't make a difference; not for such a young child, nor for you.' _she had growled at him. _'Or have you forgotten where you come from?'_

After that, Tamire refused to speak with her no matter how many times she apologized, though he softened somewhat towards the cub. His upbringing was a fragile subject, and most people were prudent enough to avoid it - though he would occasionally impart choice bits to his wife and close friends.

Mpira had nearly fallen asleep when her son returned and sat by her side. "There's something you should see."

"A place to sleep?" she said lazily.

"No, it's something else."

"Tell me, then."

"You'll have to come and look at it for yourself."

The young lion led her away from the edifice of Pride Rock, glancing back at her once or twice. He took her down through tangled brush and a dark, canopied dell. When they emerged on the other end, Pride Rock was back in view, but the land there was different; ahead sat desiccated earth - black, parched, and covered with ash. Where once there must've been lush, verdant trees stood empty shells, lifeless branches outstretched towards the sky with gaunt fingers.

Cadavers were strewn about, vultures picking at whatever carrion that wasn't seared off. In the center of all this sat another body, broken and wretched, but not quite decomposed. Mpira held her breath as she padded over to the seemingly lifeless lion; his coat was of a deep russet, and his mane, while coated with ash, was unmistakeably a shade of black. Over his left eye was a faded scar that ran from the top of his brow to the lower half of his cheek - though several, fresher scars covered his body like patchwork.

Silently, Babalyya joined his mother and gave her a light nuzzle. "Who do you think he is?" she asked, not taking her gaze off of the strange beast.

"Whoever he is, I think he's alive."


	3. RAFIKI

**Author's Note for first readers of this chapter:** Since I've gotten some feedback on this subject, I thought I might as well address it here: I am entirely aware that hyenas have matriarchs and not patriarchs; I am a hyena enthusiast, so this knowledge is not foreign to me. However, for the purpose of the story and during this specific time in the story, they have a patriarch. If you need further clarification as to why this is so, it's explained to an extent in the eighth chapter. Also, don't forget to review if you like the story.

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><p>RAFIKI -<p>

He awoke that morning and decided to break his fast on an odd assortment of berries, coconuts, and bananas. As he ate, he quietly mulled over the Wall of Kings, an arduous mawuyu compendium of every Pridelander king that lived. It was organized from left to right, the leftmost being the earliest, hundreds of years before Ahadi and his father Mohatu - the rightmost being Simba himself, standing proud in front of the smudge where his uncle had once been; despotic leaders had no place within his tree, and such people were best forgotten.

Finishing his meal, he stood and walked out onto a large bough that served as his veranda. On morns such as these, he enjoyed watching the sun as it crawled up over the horizon, the motley colors it would emblazon into the clouds, and he enjoyed the thrum of morning-birds as the world stirred itself awake. A few insects buzzed about his head, but he paid them no mind. The sunrise was much too beautiful for him to be discomfited by a few bugs.

Just three days prior, he received word from Zazu that Nala was with child, and in such matters it was generally expected of him to act as the midwife. The old monkey had no complaints; sometimes the circle of life required a helping hand, and his was more than fain. Yawning, he grabbed his staff and climbed down the baobab.

As he was making his way towards Pride Rock, a certain hornbill swooped down out of the air and landed delicately on his shoulder.

"Zazu, my old friend," He smiled. "How goes it with you on this fine morning?"

"It goes well! Though the same can't be said of our dear Simba; he's concerned for his wife."

"So it's time already?"

"Past time, I'd say - we should hurry."

Along the way, the two of them chanced across several of Rafiki's old friends; at another time he would've stopped to chat, but they were aware of his business and just smiled at him as he passed. _'Half of the kingdom must know by now.' _he thought to himself. Tidings of the king seldom went unspoken.

"There's been sightings of hyenas in the Pride Lands." Zazu said casually as they walked along.

"So soon? One would figure that they would've learned their lesson." Rafiki shook his head and sighed.

"You can't teach a dullard, nor can you tame a savage." The bird gestured flippantly, "Besides, I'm sure Simba will sort them out; he's already bolstered the amount of guards around Pride Rock, and sent out search parties as well."

"Aye, that's good. Also, make sure someone keeps a close eye on the children; I don't want those cubs left unguarded."

"It's already been tended to."

When they arrived at Pride Rock, the guards Ser Trentos and Ser Rygen greeted them at the base of the hill. Ser Trentos was one of the royal house, light of pelt and stout of stature. Ser Rygen belonged to one of the lesser houses of Pride Rock, and bore an uncanny semblance to the late King Scar. The latter spoke as they stood aside, "King Simba and his queen await you in their den."

"Thank you, ser."

Zazu hopped off of Rafiki's shoulder and flew up the hill, Rafiki following close behind. It was cold and damp within the royal den, and Zazu had perched himself by the king's side. Simba sat with Nala on a natural dais of sorts, but Rafiki could tell that sitting up wasn't easy for her. Judging by the size of her paunch, the time of birth was upon them.

"Rafiki, it's good to see you." Simba greeted with the wisp of a smile.

"And you," the monkey replied. "Are we ready?"

"I am." Nala said, her left paw resting on her stomach.

"Then it's best we do not dawdle; the work of Mungu waits for no one."

The birthing itself was a long, bloody, and assiduous process. Nala had passed out halfway through, and Rafiki was forced to pry out the cub with his bare hands. Despite the difficulty, the cub was alive and Nala was still breathing - a huge relief to Simba, who had nearly passed out himself. After the cub was born, Rafiki plucked one of the mawuyu fruits off of his staff and cracked it open, dipping his thumb in the red liquid and then daubbing it across the newborn's forehead.

"What do you think we should name him?" Simba had asked.

"Kopa." Rafiki said without hesitation.

"After Mohatu's father?"

"That's the one," He nodded as he turned to leave, "a good name."

As he was leaving the cool shade of the royal den, he almost ran head-first into another familiar face. "Caelyn," he said in way of greeting, "I did not expect to see you this far up."

"I wanted to see the prince." she replied as she looked over his shoulder.

"Best not now," He flicked his hand, dismissing the idea. "His Grace will want some time alone with the cub before the ceremonies are held." Then he changed the subject, "How is your daughter faring?"

"She's getting better, albeit slowly." she said with a smile. "She caught her first grasshopper yesterday."

"Ah, she'll make a fine huntress."

"And hopefully a fine queen." Caelyn added.

"Soon enough, yes."

The two of them descended the rock in tandem, sharing idle chatter as they made their way to the base of the hill. "What's his name?" she asked.

"Kopa."

"Myria and Kopa," the lioness mused. "I like the sound of that."

"Your father has been nought but leal to the royal bloodline. It's the least we could do for him," He laughed. "the very, very least."

"You have my thanks, and doubtless my father's as well."

Before they could escape the sweltering heat of Pride Rock, Ser Trentos rushed up to intercept them. "There's a hyena." he announced brusquely.

"Not this again." Rafiki shook his head. "Caelyn, go find any stray cubs and bring them back here. Trentos, come with me."

"Aye, sir." He gave Caelyn a terse bow before she left. "May Mungu guide us."

They found him by a small wending brook, lapping up water as he hummed a tune to himself. He only lifted his head when Ser Trentos inadvertently trundled over a brittle twig with his back paw. At first, the hyena looked shocked, almost frightened - but then he regained his composure and smiled softly. "Greetings and salutations." he said, performing somewhat of an obeisance. "Might I be of any help?"

"You'd help us by leaving - now." Ser Trentos replied.

Rafiki merely waved him off with his staff, ignoring the guard's terse manner. "What are you doing here?" he said.

"Drinking," Makazi responded, "and fishing, as it happens! Perchance you'd like to join me?"

"Perchance you'd like to leave." Ser Trentos repeated stubbornly.

"Perchance I will," he said as he rose to his feet, "But first I have an entreaty from our patriach to your king. He requests that you send aid, preferrably in the form of two lions, to help with the governing of our clan and, eventually, the restoration of the Shadowlands."

"And why would we do that?"

The hyena shrugged. "I'd hope that you'd do it from the kindness of your heart; no one enjoys living in squallor, and no one should have to. Anyhow, it's for the king to decide." He turned towards Rafiki, "Right?"

"Right," he said. "I'll go tell him. Trentos, follow this hyena and make sure he doesn't cause any trouble."

"He won't so lo-"

"Don't hurt him unless absolutely necessary," the monkey interjected, pointing a finger at the lion, "else the King will know about it, and he will _not _be pleased with you."

"Y- ..yes sir." he stammered, then shot Makazi an indignant look. "I understand."

It was even darker within the royal den when Rafiki entered for the second time that day. The sun was just falling behind the Great Mountain's peak, and there was a noticeable chill that seeped up through the rock and into his bones. Nala was awake, grooming her newborn child as Simba watched on with silent fervor. Zazu was the first to make note of his appearance. "Back so soon?" he said in a quiet voice, as to not disturb the cub.

"It is a matter of some importance." Rafiki said, tapping his staff. "I'd like to speak with Simba alone, if that is alright."

Zazu glanced to Simba, who then glanced at Nala with a questioning look.

"It's alright." She gave Rafiki a curt smile.

Simba followed him out onto the cusp of Pride Rock, where the world seemed to end and the sky began. It seemed just yesterday that Rafiki stood upon this very point and held Mufasa's child for all the kingdom to see. _'He is a child no longer.' _he remembered.

"You wanted to talk?" Simba said as he looked upon the burgeoning stars.

"Aye, that I did." Rafiki sat down next to the lion, allowing his legs to dangle off the edge of the world. "There was a hyena in the Pride Lands."

"Again?"

"Again." He nodded. "Though this one came with a request."

"Let me guess. He asked if he could snatch up and eat all of our cubs?" Simba japed.

"Not quite." Rafiki grinned, admiring his friend's sense of humor. "He said that the patriarch seeks our assistance."

"The patriarch?"

"The king of the hyenas," he explained, "he pleads for two lions to help govern the Shadowlands."

"Sure." Simba said with a shrug.

"What, that's it?"

"Sure, why not? Erst a hyena would never think of using diplomacy, and now it seems they're changing - though for better or for worse I can't say. Send them Ser Trentos and his...friend."

"Ser Rygen." Rafiki said.

"Right, send those two. Just because we help them doesn't mean we have to trust them, and it might benefit us as well if we had a presence in the Shadowlands - spies in plain view, so to speak."

"Mufasa taught you well." Rafiki lauded with a grin.

"He still does."

By the time he arrived back at his tree, the sun had completely vanished from the sky and the moon took its place. _'Those two are always fighting for rule of the heavens,' _he thought as he climbed back within the comfort of the baobab. _'But they'll never see the end of it.'_

He eased himself into a hammock that served as his bed and let his eyes wander. It wasn't long before they rested again on the Wall of Kings. Come the morrow, he'd have to paint another lion in front of Simba. When Kopa came of age, the delineation would grow a mane; and further yet, when Simba passed and his son became King, he would paint a diadem upon its brow - such had been tradition for as long as he could remember. For a moment his eyes lingered on the smudge where King Scar had been, but he quickly looked away. Scar had been more of a despot than a king, and there was no use in honoring his memory. Content with the day's work, he closed his eyes and let his mind lapse into darkness.


	4. O FORTUNA

O FORTUNA -

"One does not succeed in life by imposing themselves upon others," a voice said.

"Others might offer you their dissension; take this thing, for example." another replied.

"I speak not of propitious life for a lifetime, but nay, rather the entirety of the eterne - the perpetual soul. One does not bolster their soul to success by such means."

"But how can any soul hope to succeed in the face of such imperious eternity?"

"By truth."

"Truth is a fallible thing, and differs much between speakers. Is it not true that truth is in the eye of the beholder?"

"True, yes - but you forget the other truth; the general truth; the truth by which men, women, and children of all age and species can agree upon."

"And what is the general truth?"

"The truth is life and the living of it. All things under Mungu understand life, though they are not knowledgable in the knowing of all things about it. Everything understands life, and that it is hard; but everything also understands that there is good within it."

"What a thing sees as good varies, much as truth differs between speakers."

"What a thing sees as good might be bad according to the general truth."

"And if this thing saw what it was doing as good, and inferred that because it was seen as such that it is such, would that make it good?"

"Only from their eyes, but from no other."

"So good is something which, by the general consensus of unanimous speakers, can be agreed upon; and once a thing chooses to transgress these bounds, it is no longer good even if it sees itself as such."

"Not in entirely, for there is still the soul; a deed or deeds can be evil, but at which point is the soul forever besmirched? When does it experience that true and irreversible debacle by which so many are condemned?"

"Some would say hatred, or jealously, or...murder. Take this thing for example."

"It is a droll thing; what of it?"

"It has done all of these things; some of the most iniquitous deeds known possible. It knew hatred and the ignorance which comes as a subsequent result; it knew jealously; and it murdered. I daresay, it murdered the ones it loved."

_Loved?_

"You loved your brother; do not attempt dissension on this. You murdered him because of the anger which was a subsequent result of your jealously and ergo of your love. Do you remember the promise he made to you?"

_Promise?_

"My brother, I do so love and dote upon thee with all of my heart, and poignant to me as it was when the thought was first begendered within my mind, should I ever pass, I wish you to take my place as king; for you are my brother, closest and only friend, and deserve not a whit less."

_Words._

"Do you remember those words?"

_Yes._

"And how poignant it was when he defaulted on the aforementioned promise. His cock spoke louder than his mind; but was it his heart as well?"

"Wisht, wisht - it is only a mortal."

"It was a mortal, but it is with us now. It should count himself lucky to have been exempted from such trifles; it knows not the horrors of the corporeal world."

"It is still a mortal; blood still flows, subcutaneous and intravenous, through this thing's bodily form - even if slowly and with infirm pulse - blood still flows."

"Well that is a tragedy."

"I see not how such a thing could be tragic, nor anywhere nigh." another voice spoke out, "For what is life but the very thing of life itself? Does mirth not ring out everywhere life walks? Is it not joyful to reminisce upon glad memories with a heart full of yearning? Nay, this thing must count itself very fortunate that it still lives; else it would be old and infirm, much as ourselves."

"And how do you infer as to our infirmity? How can a spirit possibly be infirm? Do we dawdle within bags of flesh and bones, do we grow feeble with age, do we become ineffably dolorous when our hearts a-"

"Enough," a fourth voice chimed. "we shan't allow ourselves to become preoccupied with other things; there is one matter at paw, and one alone. Any other further arguments can be carried out afterwards."

...

"Folly to this extent does not go unpunished."

"That much we can concur upon."

"Nothing brings about consensus half so much as a fool."

"But what manner of punishment befits one such as this, and under such a condition? So long as he is alive, he cannot be thrown to the fires."

"Do you suggest we kill it?"

"Nay, that would be far too simple - and less than it deserves."

"Unveil to it what it has done, then cast it back to the corporeal realm. This session is adjourned, and that is a copious boon; my feet have grown cold."


	5. SCAR

SCAR -

Scar limped along after Mpira and Babalyya, following them towards a place which both of them deemed safe. While he didn't know these strangers, he was more than fain to be somewhere, anywhere away from Pride Rock. _'Anywhere except for the Shadowlands, too.'_ he added for an afterthought, _'Though I cannot blame the hyenas for their ire; that bit was my own folly.'_ After all, he had promised them everything and had given them nothing, had he not? In the end, his brother was killed as according to plan and his nephew was chased off - not killed as he hoped as he found out in the end - maugre that, Pride Rock was easily his; a few courteous smiles, a few grieved words, and his penultimate dream of becoming king became a reality. _'If I had to do it again, I would be more prudent with the hyenas.'_ Thinking on it as he trudged along, he realised how much folly he was responsible for; the hyenas took over as they are wont to do when not under scrutiny, and they destroyed nigh everything in the Pride Lands; all of that food, gone in an instant. _'I was a blithe fool, and overwhelmed with power. I should have sent envoys and appropriated supplies gradually.'_ - which is what he intended to do from the start. _'Power begets ignorance.'_

"You still haven't told us your name." Babalyya said for the umpteenth time as they plodded along.

"Nor did I intend to." came Scar's bitter reply. _'And if you go asking again, I'll have no scruples with ripping out your entrails and feeding them to the vultures.'_ he almost said. "If you must call me by aught, then call me by Taka." he yielded. _'No one knows that name except for my brother and mother, and both of them are dead.'_ ...somehow the thought gave him a pang of compunction._ 'You are my brother - closest and only friend.' _The words still echoed loudly in his ears, giving him a dire head-ache. _'It feels like an elephant went and stepped on my skull.'_

"Taka it is, then." Babalyya said, coming to a slow halt. "And here we are!"

Scar took a gander at their surroundings and found the three of them to be under a canopied dell of a sundry of trees and foliage. A shallow brook ran through it, and in a sequestered corner, behind a thick of brush, was a small grotto. "This should work, right?" Babalyya enquired.

"We do hope it suits your needs." his mother added somewhat softly.

Scar had been very clear when he said that he wanted to be some place afar from Pride Rock - preferrably clandestine. As expected, they asked why. He never gave an answer. "Yes, this will do." he said, feigning somewhat of a smile. "I thank you for your efforts, as you're veritably most generous strangers."

"Is there anything else you need?" Mpira said.

Scar paused a moment, then looked down at himself. Had it been weeks since he'd last eaten? To be honest, he wasn't even sure how he was capable of sitting up - nevermind walking and talking. Doubtlessly, inanition was soon to catch up with him. "Come to think of it, I am feeling a whit emaciated." He grinned. "You two wouldn't want to fetch a poor soul a meal, would you?"

"We can do that." Babalyya replied. His mother nodded and gave a smile.

"Excellent." he said, clasping his paws together. "You two certainly are a boon."

"We'll return shortly." Mpira said as they turned to leave.

"Ah wait, there's just a couple things I must elucidate before you go."

"Yes?"

"Firstly, if you make any acquaintances, do not bring them back here; do not even deign to speak of me or my existence; and if you believe even for a moment that you are being watched, do not return right away."

"Alright..." Mpira replied.

Scar slinked into the shaded comfort of the grotto. He expected it to be chilled compared to outside, but in reality, it was somewhat tepid - though altogether not unbearable. He plopped himself down on the ground and rested his chin on his paws, huffing slightly. _'Who are these strangers, and what could they possibly want with me?'_ he thought to himself. _'They are clearly not Pride-Landers.'_ That much was obvious enough; their pelts were much too gray and their manes and tail-tips much too dark. Their eyes seemed to be painted of coal, wheras those of Pride-Landers were oft vibrant and prepossessing. _'Mayhaps it is just happenstance and good fortune.'_

Turning his mind from those thoughts, he stood and further inspected the cave. "Stone, dirt, small, half-wilted shrubs - naught out of the ordinary." he said aloud. In one corner, there was a little pool where moisture had gathered into somewhat of a puddle. Overcome by a sudden thirst, he limped over to it and gingerly prodded at it with his tongue. It tasted awful. Overcome by another urge, he lifted his leg and had a lengthy piss - most of which splashed into the puddle and subsequently onto the surrounding walls. Finishing, he allowed himself somewhat of a chuckle as he recalled what his brother had once told him. _"You're a lion, brother - and that's not normal."_ Simba was right about one thing; his uncle was strange - veritably strange, indeed.

When they returned some hours later, the sun was beginning to sink below the tops of the trees. They had between them four freshly-killed meerkats. Scar's mouth began to salivate when he laid eyes upon them; he was truly famished. As such, he would have eaten elephant dung if that's what they returned with - but the future was beginning to look more auspicious, and tantalizingly delicious.

They supped casually on the meerkats whilst Babalyya and Mpira regaled him with tales of their past, sharing many laughs and secrets - and slowly becoming acquainted with one another. "Jole was the brains of the pride," Babalyya was telling him, "and he was also the boldest. The moment that he discovered that his father was cheating on his mother, he took it upon himself to seek the both of them out and recount absolutely everything he knew in front of them. His mum was in shock, pallid as a ghost; his father was absolutely fuming. You should have seen and heard his denial. _'If it is not true, then why are you so upset about it?'_ he asked, to which his father had no reply."

"He sounds like a cunning fellow. I presume that was the end of the marriage?"

Babalyya shook his head. "For a week the couple seldom spoke to each-other, Jole grinning slyly about it the whole time. When at last his mum confronted his father for the truth, he admitted everything. _That_ was the end of the marriage."

"Under duress, his father left and was never seen again; though occasionally he'd send a bird with a message - most of which were dolorous apologies which beseeched them to have mercy on his poor soul." Mpira added.

"Yes, _his_ soul. He didn't very well care what he did to those of others."

Scar pursed his lips slightly at that. "So tell me why you left." He set the bones of his meal aside.

Mpira and Babalyya glanced at each-other uncomfortably. "Our pride outgrew themselves." Mpira said. "The supply of prey was dwindling, and our numbers were growing. Desperate for an escape, our king traded the land and moved the entire pride north-east to a place called Temporal Valley. The food there was replete enough, but with our pride in a constant state of expansion, replete wasn't enough.

"Replete times ten would have done nicely; or, we could have stopped growing." Babalyya noted.

"Sounds like a bad case of over-copulation." Scar smiled inwardly at the joke. Mpira chuckled bashfully.

"Our king didn't know what to do, and nor did anyone else." said Babalyya with a sigh. "Some were upset about leaving their homeland; others thought we should cull the population by sectioning off parts of the pride and sending them away; and others even wanted to seek the help of the Outlanders."

"So you just left?"

"We decided that we weren't going to get caught up in the middle of everything." Babalyya confirmed with a nod.

"I sense you're not telling me all there is to know." Scar observed with a grin. "Tell me, was regicide involved?"

"There was, but we had no part of it." Mpira admitted.

"And it would be best if you didn't ask." Babalyya said, glowering slightly at Scar.

_'I've detected a nerve.'_ Scar thought. "Alright," Scar gesticulated with his paws. "I won't enquire further. You keep your secrets and I'll keep mine, and we can go on being a jovial bunch."

The rest of their meal was had in relative silence, occasioned by a joke or two. Once, Babalyya attempted to have a drink out of the puddle, and Scar quickly warned him against it. "Better to use the brook." he said in mild panic, to which Babalyya eyed him curiously.

Scar picked up the final meerkat, about to slake the last of his hunger when the creature twitched in his paws. With a groan, the tiny meerkat opened his eyes. Seeing the lion that loomed above, he yelped. He flailed and tried to escape, but Scar only gripped the thing harder. "Oh, tsk tsk. What did I tell you about acquaintances?" he glared obliquely towards Mpira and Babalyya. _'I always have the misfortune of ending up allied with damn fools.'_ he thought. Mpira blanched slightly, and Babalyya's face was wrinkled in confusion. "Sorry, we didn't know." Mpira said, trembling. "You're not going to eat him alive, are you?"

"Oh no, that'd be much too cruel." Scar said with a grin. He turned back to the meerkat whom was writhing in his paws. "You were with five other meerkats, were you not?"

"I...I was, sir." he replied, squeaking; at last submitting due to abject terror.

"You weren't close to any of them, were you?"

"No, t-they were just ac..acquaintances. I didn't know them very well."

_'That's a huge relief. I wouldn't very well have a use for him if that was his family we just ate.'_ he noted. "Good, because they're gone." Scar smirked and throttled the small creature a tad. "Tell me, how would you like to live?"


	6. MUFASA

It was just the wind, but the tumultuous noise which pervaded throughout was a noise closer to that of a cascading waterfall - or the lurid advancement of an irascible ocean about to swallow him whole. He knew that he was dead, but for how long or even remotely how he knew it, he could not say; he had seen many of things, all of which were completely ineffable except for stark, tenuous visages of the corporeal world down below.

Upon one occassion, the faceless Council of the Welkin Abode allowed him to descry through the Void – incessant torrents of ash and flame made part for a limpid vestibule, a tintinnabulation of voices and images, bombastic and true. Down thither, he had the misfortune of seeing his son lose all faith in himself. He saw, and though he knew the emotions that he was to perceive, he had lost any manner of perceiving them; the Void was like a walking, living, breathing death - it was seldom that he was aware - it was seldom that he was conscious; but somehow apart from these things, he knew.

Yearning for his son to rekindle his faith, the Council allowed him to appear to him. That was the last time they spoke directly; the rest Mufasa conferred through dreams and thoughts, through the ichor which flowed through his spirit. He did not paint words, but Simba understood notwithstanding - such was the power of family and their blood.

Mufasa spent most of the time in the Welkin Abode asleep, or schlepping across the gray vistas of the Besmirched Plains with other, phantasmagoric entities - all marching to some unknown point in time or space. Therein were bone-creatures and ghost creatures, dark-creatures and light, large-creatures and small - all of them to abscond to a place beyond knowledge. That was the world before the world was born, the Council had told him; a bastard world, or a still-born world which never made it out of the womb. It was both the world of the condemned and the world of the lost; Mufasa seemed to be neither.

How, by any misfortune had his soul come to rest in such a place? Wherever and whenever he cast his gaze upon the other spirits, he saw none like him. Naught had the faintest mote of semblance to him. He thought, and yet these other spirits did not think; most did not speak - though the ones that did had naught to say but infinity of the past - entire monologues of discordant speech and incoherent drivel, likely, without sentience, bestowing their memories to themselves once more through an imperturbable, lambent fog of empty words and sentences. Some of said spirits he would confront directly, beseeching them to listen. Most plodded on, and most others vaporised into nothing as if they never existed; it was just like staring up at the clouds. What do you see, what shape does those clouds thither take? One moment it is a beast, another a thing, another and it is gone withouten the faintest image but a memory.

Every once in a long while, his futile attempts at conference were bolstered - his hopes renewed whene'er a spirit or monster would turn in his direction. Such entities did not speak and proceeded to look towards him and his relative placement in the Welkin Abode – veritably through him and not at him, and all were gone afore he could finish his words; but it was a hope, ever a hope that something aside from the Council did so exist. The Council did seldom speak, and seldom when they did so had they made good company; it was most like speaking into a vast chasm and listening to one's echo as it jounced about a bottomless dark. They conferred when they wished.

The trees had eyes, he saw - the very hills themselves had mangled, twisted mouths. Pillars of fog spoke in garbled whispers of the world below, and wiry plants and motley flowers caught scents of that world and dispersed them upwards towards the dismal Plains. Oh, the fecundity of madness which was endured, the emptiness of the Void! There was naught in Mufasa's soul that did not desire to be a part of a physical, breathing world again. There was little argument or dissension from his spirit or his mind, and aside from exemption from the pains of physical-being, he could conjure no reasons to avert a return. It was more than possible; it was done on a diurnal basis – spirits, the ones whom happened to regain consciousness, scheduling then engaging in lengthy palavers with the Council as to why they would return, and how the Welkin Abode might possibly benefit if they were to walk once more amongst mortal men; it did not come without contract, but ne'er did such agreements conclude to a pernicious outcome. Mufasa wanted to be down there – he needed to be down there – every fibrous strand of his soul and being cried out for it; so he went to them.

Upon hearkening, the Council thought him mad - until he persisted and told them thrice more of his inexorable pining. "I seek no longer to be amongst the ghosts and carrion." he said, imploring mercy. "I wish to return to the corporeal world." Tacitly and without much further argument, as the Council was not the sort to prolong business and decline wishes, the ghosts and ubiquitous spirits made way and opened another vestibule; a fiery pit of vapor and cloud, a tempest - a great descent into an abyss – but not an abyss in truth, but the world; his world! He would have his freedom. He would return to the Pride Lands in the same way he left.


	7. CHEETATO

INVIGILATOR OF THE DAWN -

The herds came. Slowly at first, naught more than a trickle - then an entire conflagration of animals. They came in the hundreds, nay, quite possibly the thousands, and they were of every variety imaginable; there were gazelle and zebra, hares and wildebeest, elephants and large, towering giraffes - all of them led on to a singular place of felicity and longevity; the Oasis.

Many of them were accustomed to this procedure. Come the warm weather, much of the water in their home-lands would dry up. Rains would cease and vegitation would refuse to grow – a drouth all around - noxious and ofttimes fatal for those whom were physically unfit to make the voyage. If a mother or father was faithful to their child, they would carry them to the Oasis upon their backs. Sometimes, even with the assistance of paternal care, these ones did not make it; knowing this, parents would tearfully leave their children behind – some even bequeathed to them the gift of euthanasia. It was emotionally difficult for all. Few even took their own lives from the subsequent despair; after all, was not a child a product of one's own womb, an epitome of one's entire life and future being? In some cases, yes, if the child could not live, the parents died as well. Cheetato knew all of this and more.

He had been watching the herds with the titular role of Invigilator ever since his brother, Cheetata, was captured for hunting prey on the territory of a rogue pride named the Dorak'mahxi. Lucky for both him and his brother, they seemed to have a great deal of clemency for their subjects. Argumentative at first, both Cheetato and Cheetata came to an agreement when the Elder of the pride offered a compromise; Cheetata would help them hunt and Cheetato would keep track of the prey and their numbers. It was trite work, but it paid well in both food and friendship, and it allowed the both of them to keep their lives.

One of such friends was Mwangiza, a light-tannish lion with a thick mane and eyes as dark as a starless night. He padded up next to Cheetato and had a seat, perusing the herds with a stark look. "Magnificent sight, isn't it?" he said with a low, rumbling voice. "The herds are just fecund with flesh, waiting for us to take them."

"I'm dubious that these animals exist just for us to eat them." Cheetato replied softly. "Don't you think they live lives of their own?"

"Maybe so, maybe so – but why would Mungu make them so weak and infirm if he did not wish us to consume them?"

"Why do trees not walk? Why does the grass blow in the wind? Why do mountains stand tall and the rains fall? There are many things he does which we do not understand."

"You have some good points." Mwangiza said, raking his claws along the side of his cheek. "Still, the sight of them makes my mouth water."

"You might not infer from the tantalising amount you see here, but you'll be surprised to know that there are less this year than there were last." Cheetato stated dryly, watching the herds saunter along.

"Certainly not." He laughed. "Look at all of them!"

"I assure you, there is an extraordinary dearth of prey."

"Truly?" Mwangiza looked confused.

"Truly."

"Still, you cannot tell me that you don't look at all that and not feel the smallest bit of hunger." The lion motioned to the herds.

"Oh I admit it's titillating, but that's not what I've agreed to do. I only watch them; I don't hunt them. That's for your pride to do...and my brother." He smiled. "How is he doing, by the way?"

"He is good."

"Is that all? I've barely seen him as of late – surely there must be something else going on."

Mwangiza grinned. "Just a lot of hunting, and he seems to have taken up a fancy with Alyza." he said.

"Hm." It was more of an acknowledgement than a thought. "She's always been a bit coquettish."

"Hence your brother taking up a fancy." He smirked. "It seems to be mutual, but who can say?"

"I'd like to think he's smart enough to differentiate between infatuation and true love."

Mwangiza chortled slightly. "Yeah, true love. Come on, let's get you to your brother – you've done enough watching for the week."

There was a rivulet which ran through the veldt, a scanty thing and nearing desiccation. Some of the animals that were headed for the Oasis stopped there instead, lapping at the muddy waters which remained. Upon sighting the two predators, many of them fled. Others stayed put – too decrepit and weak to move. Cheetato and Mwangiza didn't bother with any of them, but rather passed them by. "Kill not the diseased and emaciated, I say." Mwangiza said as they ambled along.

"Seems a good philosophy." Cheetato replied. "Why eat haggard flesh when you can have a tender, sinewy steak?"

"Ask the hyenas. I'm sure they'd tell you." The older lion licked his lips. "How many less precisely?"

"At least three hundred per species. If my calculations are correct, which they usually are, the herds will be down to the tens within a few years."

"Where could they possibly be going?" Mwangiza looked at him with a tinge of concern.

_'Into the stomachs of your pride, most like.' _Cheetato thought. The Dorak'mahxi were the largest and fiercest band of lions he had ever seen. To feed all that, one would need thousands of herds. "I don't know. Maybe they have moved on to other lands." was his answer. Mwangiza was a decent friend, and he didn't need upset him with the truth of things.

They returned to a collation of sorts, every pride member gathered in several groups about the rocky dale that was their home. _'The hunting parties must be back.' _With piqued curiosity, Cheetato eyed the groups in search for his younger brother. Amidst all of that chaos, however, it was difficult to spot anything. "You look for him." Mwangiza said, patting him on the back cordially. "I'll go and give the Elder your report."

"Thank you." Cheetato smiled at the lion then resumed inspecting the crowds.

Out of the entire hubbub that was the Dorak'mahxi pride, Cheetato was only acquainted with a select few. Most others ignored him of their own volition, and others despised him for being an outsider and of a different species – but he didn't mind, so long as dealing with their bosh kept him and his brother safe and fed. He had a few decent friends, too; Malani, another cheetah of younger age, whom found a copious amount of happiness in Cheetato's company and tutelage; Beth, a younger lioness belonging to a sub-family of the Dorak'mahxi pride. Her family was somewhat abusive, never bothering to hearken to her or give mind to her toils – but that was alright, as she could confer with Cheetato at length about her problems, and he was always willing to give her an ear or two; Gharil, a rather reclusive individual who seldom spoke up during conversations and was, for the most part, socially inept. Aside from the awkward disposition which pervaded everywhere he went, he was a decent friend to Cheetato, and friends were rare enough in this dolorous world; and last but not least, Mwangiza, the cheetah's closest friend – it was thanks to him that Cheetato and his brother were allowed to live amongst the lions without much interference. The Elder was all for impetuously and impudently executing the transgressors of their soil, but Mwangiza saw some sort of worth in the outsiders, and having such leverage with the Elder as he did, convinced him to let the two cheetahs live.

A few more minutes of searching granted him the company of Beth, whom was as happy to see him as ever. When she saw him ambling about in the midst of the crowds, she immediately called his name and trotted over. "Beth." he acknowledged, with all of the cordiality he could possibly conceive. "How fare thee this morn?"

"I am well." she replied with a smile. There was something about her countenance when she smiled that irrefutably prepossessed him. "All of this chaos!" she exclaimed with a paw upon her fore-head.

"Veritably. What is it of?"

"Some of the hunting parties have returned with their weekly contributions."

"As I suspected – and my brother?"

She shook her head. "His party isn't back yet; though I've no doubt they will be soon."

"Hopefully so. A week without his company is a week too long. Growing up, we never left each-other's sides."

"You should count yourself fortunate to have a brother that loves you." She chuckled sadly. "Mine would not even deign to give me the faintest semblance of a a grin; and when he does grin, it is usually before he's about to commit some impudent act of violence or defamation ."

Cheetato made somewhat of a disgruntled noise. "That truly is a shame. Have you conferred with your father about this?"

"Conferred, and at length. He is of no witness to what occurs, and subsequently refuses to take action."

"You have my condolences." he said with a frown. "I'm sure conditions must ameliorate themselves eventually."

"Certainly, but who could say when?"

"Hopefully soon." Cheetato gave her somewhat of a reasurring smile, then decided to switch the subject to take her mind off of things. "Say, would it be too much of a burthen if I was to eat with you today? Seeing as my brother has not yet returned, and I am not oft welcome amongst the denizens of this pride, it would be a fair bit better if I was in familiar company."

"Oh...sure, that would be fine!" She smiled softly. "However, I've also invited a few others to sup with me."

"Whom?"

"No one you'd have to worry about." she consoled him, "Besides, the people you don't like are the people I don't like. Anyways, it'll be in half an hour if you wish to join."

"Alright, that sounds good – thank you." He smiled at her again and wished her farewell, turning to visit the local tarn.

When he arrived at the pond, there was little to nought in occurrence aside from a few flies buzzing about. Sighing, he brought his head down and had a few laps at the placid water – when the ripples ceased, he got a moment to peruse his reflection. _'Still Cheetato.'_ he thought, a bit glumly. Throughout all of his life, he supposed, he had always been the same cheetah; intellectually superlative in a world of blithe fools – his fears had been bolstered when he and his brother had a run-in with that trio of drivelling hyenas some odd years ago. In a way, it was his bane that harried him through the years; ofttimes he wondered if possibly he was _too _smart – or mayhap, just mayhaps he had an average mind and everyone else was at such a droll level below him. Cheetato wasn't exactly one for believing in reincarnation, but if it existed, he wondered what he would have done in a past life to deserve such a punishment.

A light tap on the shoulder pulled him out of his thoughts, and when he turned to see who it was, he found a large tawny-gray lion with one green eye and one blind staring upon him; the Elder, whose purblindness resulted from a scuff as a child – it was that eye which so many found a fright, and one of the reasons why he was so greatly revered. "Missing out on the feast, Invigilator?" he said, lips curling into a small grin.

"Not so, actually; I'm scheduled to eat with Be-"

"Those plans have been cancelled." he interjected in a casual manner.

"Pardon?" Cheetato eyed him curiously, attempting to spot the slightest mote of maleficient intent, but there was none he could find – then again, it wouldn't surprise him; the Elder had made a habit of cullying him and his brother afore.

"I have new plans for you – plans which don't involve sitting on your tail and watching herds all day – and they're just as exigent as they are pertinent."

"What did you have in mind?"

"Mwangiza told me the statistics of your observations, and it doesn't take an intellectual to know what they mean."

"With no offense intended, I must politely aver that the reason for the dearth in prey is due to y-"

"I have already considered such theories, and while it might be appealing to come to that conjecture, I have done the mathematics several times and I have determined that the Dorak'mahxi are not the only cause."

Cheetato looked at him a moment, trying to formulate a response; he was almost sure the Dorak'mahxi were the cause, and learning that they weren't gave him a whit of a surprise. "Are you certain?"

"Quite, unfortunately – as copious as our pride is, I'm afraid there are other forces at work here. I've spoken with me council, and we've decided that it'd be best if you followed the herds and saw exactly where it is they go and what they preoccupy themselves with – if they are vanishing as we fear, then it is your duty to figure out how."

"My duty, or my duress?"

"A whit of both." He chuckled.

"And of my brother? I haven't gotten to see him – and Beth? She'll be expecting me soon."

"Both have been readily obviated. Your brother will be coming with you for the journey, and I've already sent out someone to inform Beth of your departure."

"Thank you." Cheetato said, somewhat dejectedly. "Might I say my farewells, at least?"

"Of course. Take the time you need, as you'll be gone for a long while; trust me, you will be missed." he replied with a grin.

Before they left for their itinerations, the two brothers joined the Elder and his small council for a brief meal. After an arduous week of Cheetato watching and Cheetata hunting, it was the least the Elder could do as a farewell gift. Together, the brothers caught up on a myriad of different subjects and findings, and together they feasted upon a small variety of animals – a great deal of relief for Cheetato, whom hadn't eaten properly for the last few days.

It was a gelid and clear night when Cheetato and his brother set out into the savannah, the world a humble susurrus of its antipodal, daylit self. There had been a bit of talking to do when his brother finally returned, and though the two had their minor differences, they were usually able to confer on a mutual level of thought and sentiment. "The hunt was a vacuous excursion into folly." his brother had told him as they walked, "And while I bit back my tongue in the Elder's precense, I must make an excursion into the land of discomfiture and say that I've never seen a bigger lack of prey in all of my years - though at least others were more fortunate."

Cheetato gave a small nod of acknowledgement, then switched the subject. "Our absence will be hard on Beth and little Malani."

"I'm sure Beth is capable of sorting things out on her own accord." his brother assured him. "Besides, there's plenty of time to fix things when we return."

"If we ever do."

Cheetata laughed gently then cast his brother an oblique glance. "Veritablty we must; it'd be nonsense to believe otherwise. Say, what of our dear cobber?"

"Mwangiza? What about him?"

"Was he not informed of our departure?"

"It must have slipped my mind." He frowned slightly and gave a sigh. "That'd be right."

"Don't worry about it; if they told Beth, she's sure to inform him."

After hours of trundling through the brush, they finally came to a clearing which overlooked a good part of the Matope river and the spotted areas of jungle behind. From what they could descry, there was no prey about at this late and still time of night – and if there was, they were being unusually surreptitious and prudent. "We can camp here for the night," Cheetato whispered to his brother, "I'm sure the herds will be out in the morning, and once they are, we'll have a go at approaching them amiably."

"And if they run?"

"Then we'll follow. Though there won't be much need if we adhere to the plan."

"Which plan is that?" his brother asked, raising an eyebrow.

"When you hunt, you try to pick off the young, as they're usually the easiest targets. The same philosophy also applies to diplomatic situations; the young, whom are mostly uneducated in the lurid ways of this world, will be more inclined to listen to a stranger – even a predator. If we can convince the young that we mean no harm, then it will be easier to convince the old."

"Not by much, I presume. Also, how are we supposed to keep ourselves fed if we can't kill them?"

"We'll find smaller creatures to sup upon; meerkats and the like – we need their cooperation in the mulling of this issue, or else there won't be any prey left – and for cooperation, we need their trust."

Cheetata scratched his chin, thinking over the plan quietly. "I suppose we'll see how it goes in the morning" he concluded, flopping down beneath the cover of some foliage. His older brother smiled and did much the same, burrowing himself into a flowery and pungent bush. "Good-night, brother." he said lazily.

"Good-night." came Cheetata's soft reply.

For a while the two brothers laid there, listening to the other breathe and taking solace in the knowledge that the other was alive and well. In this manner, sleep came easily to Cheetato, whom garnered happiness in the company of his brother – much akin to the comfort he felt as a cub so many years erst. He did not know if it was sordid to find pleasure in that way, or if it counted as a droll form of kindness. Shrugging to himself, he allowed his mind to wander and beget worlds and universes of its own, his eyes furtively keeping track of his surroundings. He listened as Cheetata's breaths became more drawn out, and then torpidly crawled to a stop; he was asleep, and knowing that, Cheetato could rest comfortably. The world around him faded into darkness; solid entities became strange and sublime daemons which marched across the ebon infinity of his mind; the things which were real became surreal; forms became without, and in the split-second before he lost himself to a dream, he could have sworn he espied a great saffron flame alighting from the sky.


	8. MAKAZI

MAKAZI -

It had been tense since Rafiki departed, leaving the two bitter foes by themselves. Neither of them trusted each-other, and Trentos had been casting oblique glares his way; every time Makazi moved a paw, it produced a rebuke. Several times they had attempted to initiate conversation, but each time it either failed or ended in argument. Even in moments of silence it had been less than enjoyable. Makazi wasn't fain to admit it, but he wished he was somewhere else; unfortunately, he wouldn't be going anywhere without the lion._ 'Such is the price of being __an envoy__.'_ Pondering to himself, he supposed he would simply have to get used to it. The patriarch's commands did not go unsatisfied.

Thitherto, the day had been relatively humdrum. It was like most days, with an overbearing heat and the wail of heat-bugs and flies; the sort which made Makazi thankful for the nigh-incessant shadow of his homeland. Seeking to mitigate tensions and provide a distraction, Makazi had suggested for Trentos to show him around. The lion had responded with a grunt, but after a few more moments of dolourous silence, the lion pried himself off his arse and beckoned for Makazi to follow.

Trentos showed him mostly along the river, taking a good amount of prudence not to allow him too far into the Pride Lands. During their excursion, they espied some zebra whom didn't hesitate to flee at the sight of them._ 'Hyena in the Pride Lands, they'll say.' _Makazi thought with a grin. _'I do love stirring up trouble.'_ At noon, dark clouds had rolled in from the west, bringing with them a sort of miasma; the coolness of the lambent winds had calmed Makazi though, and it even began to sprinkle lightly as they plodded on - when Trentos began to complain of this, the hyena smirked to himself.

"I wonder. When your cadaver lays gnarled in a hole somewhere, will there be a rain to wash away your blood, or will your carrion lay dry for the scavengers to pick?" Trentos said, catching wind of Makazi's amusement.

Befuddled, Makazi turned and looked at him. The lion wore a grave countenance. Makazi knew of the blood-feud betwixt lions and hyenas all too well, but he could sense Trentos had more reasons than that; his entire aura seemed to stink of hatred_._ "I don't know." Makazi replied, giving a flippant shrug. _Nor do I give a bugger._ It was conspicuous that Trentos was upset by the answer - it was not the retort he had hoped for._ 'He seeks to goad me.'_ Makazi sighed to himself.

The lion had finished showing him around the river, and it was not long until they crested a kopje, returning to the original spot Rafiki had left them. When they returned, Ser Rygen was found sharpening his claws on a nearby tree. Finishing this, he took notice of the two approaching him. "Where have you been?" he said, regarding the hyena warily.

"I was showing our friend around the river." Trentos responded. The word _friend _was almost spat, Makazi noted.

"Whom condone-"

"No one condoned it but I, and whilst I know such action might herald my extrication from knighthood, I did it anyways - there are no strategic infirmities along the river, and I required some sort of distraction - you would do the same if you had to spend time with one of..." He motioned towards Makazi, "_them._"

_'Aren't you coy?' _Makazi thought, feigning a smile as best as he could.

"Fine, but if we're sacked in the night, the blood is on your paws."

"I understand." Trentos gave a _harrumph_, and the three of them set for the Shadowlands.

The main trail out of the Kingdom was sinuous and clandestine, mostly buried in stones and wiry shrubs; copses dotted the border, their leaves shimmering russet and lavender in the sinking afternoon sun. An uncomfortable silence followed the trio, all fettered by the supposed distances of their species. Trentos and Rygen were uncomfortable the most - neither of them had seen the Shadowlands aside from at a distance, but they had heard rumours of it - horrible rumours.

"I wouldn't worry." Makazi said as if reading their thoughts, "Some of us are boorish, yes; but others are more civilised and will welcome you with open paws. We're not all intent on destroying our territory, but the ones whom are will be hunted down - that's partly why you're coming with me."

"And the rest?" Rygen pried.

"What I've already explained to Trentos and a certain monkey he was with."

"Rafiki." Trentos corrected.

"Right. I told them that we need help with the restitution of the Shadowlands - the patriarch sent for two lions, but that's only the initial plan. You two are enough to proffer some counsel, but more will be required if we're to restore functionality and weed out the deprave of us; eventually, more of your populace will be required to ensure security, preferrably lead by an official on each side to oversee matters - the patriarch is not enough, and we've come to terms with this long ago."

"I don't know of any lion that would be willing to govern a bunch of curs." Trentos said, which caused Makazi to chuckle.

"You have to be a dog to be a cur. But as for what you've said, alas, I don't know of anyone myself; not yet."

The two lions stepped after him warily, their maws agape at the looming Shadowlands. Above, a gray and forlorn sky overshadowed what was a scene wrought of tragedy. Strewn hither and thither were cadavers, some fresh enough for the gnats to sup on, others nought more than wretched piles of bone. As they walked, the trio passed by what appeared to be a young female hyena, her final pose a writing picture of death; she was eviscerated, her intestines coiled out in front of her. Nestled within her guts was the corpse of a beheaded cub, newly born. A lone rat feasted on the remains, eyeing the newcomers apprehensively. Glancing over his shoulder, Makazi saw that Rygen had averted his eyes, and Trentos looked as if he was about to lose his lunch. "That was a lion's doing." the hyena said casually. Rygen shot him a glare as if he was about to object, "Not one of your lions; an Outlander. We're at war with them."

"A war?" Trentos said, still trying to hold down his gorge. "Over what?"

"Over whom gets the last scrap of shit." Makazi replied with a smirk.

Moments later they arrived at the edifice of the Old Elephant, an icon that most knew from tale if not from sight - its pallid tusks were cracked and half sunken into the mud, and its hollow eyes seemed to be cast upward to the skies, begging for mercy. Spotting the lions, most hyenas scurried for shelter; a bolder few remained, watching from under shaded overhangs, peeking from behind twisted shrubs as dead as the land they inhabited, or simply in plain view. An old and beaten hyena appeared at the top of a hill, sniffing in the direction of the newcomers. He snorted in disdain. Rygen seemed to hold a particular curiosity about the hyena.

"That's Booros of the Brothers," Makazi said as they strode by. "they're not the sort you wish to trifle with."

"The Brothers?" he enquired.

Makazi waited until they were well out of earshot to reply. "Hyenas from all walks of life," he began, coming to a stop in front of the skull. "Some are indigent, and others better off. There are paupers alongside sons of once great families, scions of what this place was before the downfall - there are singers and philosophers, commoners and harlots, all united under one thing."

"Harlots amongst the brothers?" Trentos said with a chortle. The idea of a male whore seemed to amuse him.

"The Brothers include many sisters as well, and the name doesn't explicitly mean they're kin - it's simply a name they give themselves - a moniker to remind them that they're all connected."

"What connecects them?"

"Hatred of your kind."

The patriarch's den was situated within the Old Elephant's eye, its pallid and cracked walls covered with lichen. Makazi observed as the two lions stepped fearfully through the entrance, their tails whipping back and forth in obvious discomfort. The patriarch himself was situated in an ordinary corner, gnawing away at what little remained of a zebra's leg-bone. When he saw the three approaching, he set his meal aside and comported himself with an amicable grin. "Makazi, you've returned." he said, turning his attention to the other hyena. His eyes were a rusty gold, and his features oddly aquiline; some ofttimes japed that he was sired by a bird, but the patriarch seemed to pay no mind. _'Laughter keeps a person healthy.' _he had claimed once, _'so if they wish to laugh at me, they're more than welcome - I'll simply have to laugh with them.' _In terms of stature, he was the smallest of the group, though his diminutive form was sinewy and agile; quick of body, with a wit to match.

"King Simba wasted no time in hearing us, and he was even quicker to accept." Makazi said, "These are two of his guard, which he's sent to us for aid." He motioned to the lions

"Odd of him to concur to this mad scheme so quickly, don't you think?" The patriarch replied with a chuckle. He let his gaze fall on the lions for a moment before returning it to Makazi. "We know of Simba's past misfortunes with our kind all too well - it'd be unlike him to help us...of course unless there was something in it for him."

Rygen squirmed uncomfortably, though Trentos seemed less bothered by his cunning.

"It is of no matter, though. We came as supplicants, and he hasn't pissed on us, at least directly. So, perchance you two would be willing to introduce yourselves?"

Rygen was first to step forward, though Makazi could tell he wasn't comfortable with doing so. "I'm Sir Rygen, Knight of the Sixth Order, leal to the throne - the King's wish is my command, and if it is his desire, it brings me great pleasure to serve you."

_'A lie.'_ Makazi thought to himself._ 'Your wish is to be gone from this place.'_

Trentos stepped up beside him, and wasted no time in getting to the point. "I am Sir Trentos, Knight of the Sixth Order, leal to the throne...the King's wish is my command." he said with a grimace.

The patriarch clapped his paws together in mock glee. "Oh good; I won't have to worry about your loyalty then."

"If it's not transgressing my bounds, may I ask a question?" Rygen said.

Makazi supressed a laugh, turning away so the lions wouldn't take notice of his bemused countenance. Trentos simply rolled his eyes, and the patriarch himself smiled. "Go ahead."

"I apologise if this seems brusque, but I was of the impression that hyena clans were headed by matriarchs."

The patriarch looked at him for a moment as if considering how to reply, then he frowned.

"The Matriarch was my sister." he said, his voice redolent of sorrow. "Years ago she went out in hopes of finding our people a better place, some haven where we could all live the rest of our days in relative peace. Many insisted that the only haven around these parts was the Pride Lands, but she was always the stubborn one. After she left, we all anticipated her return, but months later we began to grow restive. _'She has abandoned us.' _they said, _'She has __gone__ for her haven and left the rest of us to rot!'_. Whether or not that's true, we never learned. Some of us took their cubs and left, saying they would find their own havens away from the hell of our lands – some went off claiming they would find the matriarch and discover what became of her, and drag her back if the rumours proved to be veritable – none have ever returned, and most of us stayed behind. She left nihilism in her absence, with no one to lead us. Seeing the dire nature of the situation, I knew someone had to supplant her. Unfortunately, it was a job no one was willing to take, and so I stepped up and attempted to restore order. I'll admit that I'm not the leader these people need; but without me to guide them, none will – someone has to keep the peace, at least until my sister returns...if she ever does." He ended his tale with a sigh, turning to leave. "I loved her dearly, and it's my best wish that wherever she is, she is alright and happy – leaving us behind was a slight that I don't care for, but if something did happen, then how is that her fault? Makazi, I'll leave you to attend our guests."

As he stepped out of the cave, the trio was silent._ 'An excellent introduction.' _Makazi thought ruefully.


	9. SCAR II

SCAR -

They trailed down the side of the escarpment, Scar slinking behind them. It was early, and the sun hadn't yet shone above the hills. The sky was an amalgam of russet, lavender, and the colour of blood. After a while of hiking, they came to a thick coppice - within its serried brush they found a small bourn trickling into a pond below. Mpira stepped to the ledge and gazed over with interest. "Care for a dip?" she asked with renewed excitement.

Scar was taken aback, his countenance a mix of confusion and disgust. "Honestly? I was under the impression that cats hated water." Above them some birds chirruped noisily in the branches, their songs carried by the wind - it was a relaxing scene, but Scar wasn't much in the mood for getting wet.

The other two lions laughed. "Really?" Mpira said.

Babalyya also seemed surprised. "Where we come from, there's all sorts of springs and rivulets, tarns and sparkling cataracts; most of us spend our laze-time swimming, or bathing.

Scar sighed. "Alright."

For a long while they tarried there in the cool water. Mpira and her son chatted amongst themselves whilst Scar found himself lost in a cloud of thought. The more he mulled over what he had done, the more he regretted it. Ultimately, he had known from the start that killing his brother was wrong, but the depths of it he did not initially realise - the impetus of jealousy and avarice had contorted his vision, and made iniquity fester beneath his skin; even as he proclaimed himself king of Pride Rock, he felt the guilt welling inside him. Not even when the hyenas meandered into the Pride Lands, into the very heart of whither he desired them to be, did the sorrow wane - and that was another thing. It was concordance betwixt lions and hyenas he sought, and at first it seemed like that would be such; but as the moons slowly drifted by, tensions grew, and soon it was like a conflagration of raw and bitter hate. Scar did his best to ameliorate the situation, but he eventually gave in to the debacle. There were too many supplicants, too many entreaties to pay heed to - without someone else to help him govern, he found himself swept away in a deluge of conflict - it would not have been so if his brother hadn't defaulted on his promise. The fact that Mufasa had forgotten rankled in his mind since it was announced that Sarabi was with child. He spent that night away in the Shadowlands, confessing his woe to the hyenas; if anyone was to listen, it would be them. The memory of them pained him now, recalling his mendacious words. _I said the hyenas were the enemy, didn't I?_He smiled to himself, but it was weary and desolate. He strived now in his heart to return to quondam years, so that he might do all things differently.

By the time he was finished thinking, Babalyaa was gone, and the sun was peeking low through the canopy. Mpira had extricated herself from the tarn, but she was seated at the banks watching him. "How long have you been doing that?" said Scar, pushing himself out of the water. "It bothers me when I'm being watched."

She chuckled. "Honestly, not long; but it didn't seem like you'd notice."

"Where's your son?"

"He went off hunting, though I'm sure he'll return shortly."

Scar sat himself by her side, though not too close as to become awkward - if she was younger and withouten child, he might have given her a chance - but alas, she did not strike his fancy. _Perchance beggars can't be choosers, _he thought, gazing at his own reflection. Apart from the fleshy scar he had possessed since a child, his face was covered with a plethora of other wounds, though they were nought compared to the ones that covered his body. He groaned and slid a paw down his muzzle, as if trying to wipe away the pain; it did no good. "Is something on your mind?" Mpira said, "You've been awfully taciturn today, and you have also been daydreaming."

He laughed softly. "I've been losing myself quite often as of late; head trauma, no doubt."

"I think there is more to it then head trauma," she said, "There's a lot you haven't apprised us of, and we're beginning to suspect something's amiss."

"It's nothing." Scar replied, attempting to avoid her gaze.

They sat there in silence for a few moments more, and Scar was aware that Mpira had transposed herself somewhat closer. He would have rolled his eyes if she were not looking. "You said that you and your son came from a place beyond the Torrid Lands?"

"That's right," she confirmed. "It does not have an official name, at least not like the titles of Torrid Lands, Pride Lands, or Outlands - but we call it Nchi ya Maji, or Maji for short."

"The Land of Water." He scratched his chin.

"That's right!" She smiled.

"If everyone calls it that, then isn't that its name?"

"Not necessarily," came her reply.

Scar cast an oblique glance her way. _I don't like the way she said that._

A few more moments passed them by, and then there was a light rustling by the water's edge. Scar was initially alarmed, but he breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that it was only Babalyaa. Mpira moved to greet him. "Back from hunting?" she said with a nuzzle.

"It was hapless." He sighed, "This land is replete with prey, but I found them all too evasive for my liking."

"Not too evasive for their liking, I'm sure," Scar quipped.

Mpira laughed and patted her son on the shoulder. "You'll get the hang of it."

"So what's been happening in my absence?"

"Well, Taka was just asking me about our home beyond the Torrid Lands."

Babalyaa's ears perked up in interest. "Why so?"

The younger lion looked at him curiously, and he smiled in return. "It's just that I cannot stay here, you see," Scar said. "I was wondering if perchance either of you would be willing to take me."

The two of them sat in silent ponderation, and then Mpira spoke. "After the journey here, I'm doubtful that either of us would be able to make the voyage again - I nearly lost my son during the first peregrination - I myself likely would not survive a second."

Scar looked at both of them: They were haggard, and he had no doubt in his mind that they were incapable of making the journey. He was doubtful of his own abilities, but he had little choice. "I see," he said, feeling defeated.

"I could tell you the way, if your memory proves reliable enough," Mpira said, "Then there may be some hope; but the way is long and arduous, and cuts through the Torrid Lands. You will go many days without water or food; do you think you are prepared for such a journey?"

"Is there no other way?"

"I suppose one could go around the Torrid Lands - it is much more auspicious, at least as we have heard, and survival is more likely - but it is also much longer, and deviates significantly. It may take a single lion a year or more of straight walking just to reach the other side, and as my son and I were short on time, that was not an option; in the borders along the Torrid Lands, it is also much more likely that one that does not wish to be found may be found," Her voice lowered to a whisper, "and we do believe that you have a desire to be as surreptitious as possible."

Scar groaned, wondering how much about him they knew - if they had tidings of his past, they weren't being very inconspicuous about it, but they certainly weren't telling him either. "What do you advise?"

Mpira smiled, letting her eyes rest on the shimmering water. "Whichever suits you."

It was growing late. Already the sun was beginning to cool, and sudden gusts of cold wind swept down from the north, tousling his fur. The sun was sinking quickly, and the stars were already beginning to shine in the pale evening darkness. _I must pay a visit afore I depart, _he thought to himself as he plodded along in silence. He came to the cusp of a wold, littered with bramble. From its peak, he gazed across a swath of arid land and saw a wall of rock and earth protruding from the ground. Near its westmost border was a small cranny, wherein Scar was headed.

As he ambled forward, he slowly took notice of all that was occurring around him. Though he was travelling alone, he knew there were many lesser creatures about. The sound of crickets permeated the night air, and from the distance came the eerie wailing of unknown birds. Approaching the recess, he could almost feel the stars on his back, watching his every movement. _Are you looking down at me, brother?_He felt a pang of emptiness and remorse.

Inside the cove, the moonlight fell at a slanted angle for a few feet, then faded away into darkness. He stalked into the shadows, the air becoming warmer with every step he took. The gray, moss-covered walls loomed on both sides of him, and ended in a low round ceiling - from it hung several old stalactites and draperies, green and brown from the vines that ensconced them. He stepped through a curtain of vine and found himself in a wide chamber, its roof low and decayed. Scar shut his eyes, allowing himself a long breath. For a while he just sat there and listened, though there was little to hear for the silence and the trickling of unseen waters. "Mother, I've come," he whispered to the shadows. "I only wish to confer, though I understand if you do not." The lion hung his head, feeling the guilt well up inside him. Hearing no answer, he opened his eyes and paced about the cavern. "I don't entirely remember where you are, can you tell me?" He sniffed around the edges of the room, his eyes searching.

Finally, his paw bumped something in the darkness. He looked down, and saw a lifeless, pallid face staring up at him. Her flesh had all gone away, leaving naught but bone. A smile touched his lips, and he reached down and gently pried her skull from the dirt. "Mother, I missed you." He held her up to his face, gazing into hollow, empty eyes. "Did you miss me?" he said with tears brimming his eyes. "So much has happened since we last spoke, and I fear it's not for the better. You probably know already."

Silence.

"I didn't really want to kill Mufasa; he gave me little choice." He paused, thinking about what he just said. _I had a choice; I could have spared him._ "I didn't want to kill him," he repeated. _And yet you did._ Something caught the corner of his eye. Looking to his left, he saw another pile of bones: The remains of a lion, with its ribs buried in the dirt. The skull layed on its side, cracked and covered in a brownish green patina. Scar growled and set his mother down, storming over to the corpse. "It was your fault!"

His father did not respond.

"Because the mistakes of the few speak for the many," he said angrily. "The hyenas were my friends, and yes, some of them ravaged our land, but that does not define the entire species! What kind of a righteous king condemns a race because a few of the boorish ones went astray? If you had handled everything like that, then there would be no one living in the Pride Lands!" Scar was pacing back and forth, his fur bristling like it was aflame, and his tail lashing wildly. The mere thought of his father sent him into a rage, but having to actually see him was more than he could bear. _I should have not come here._

"Mufasa..." Scar let his brother's name escape his mouth, though he chastened himself again for saying it. "...it was always him you preferred, father." He closed his eyes ruefully, then chuckled. "He was doltish, you know - not really fit for ruling a kingdom, if I might say so myself. He had the brawn, and I had the brains. I know somewhere in your heart you knew I was better suited for the job, but ah, _what's that? _You will not let the hyenas into the Pride Lands? What suffering they must endure. So you chose Mufasa because he was more malleable; of course, for he had never known or possessed any friendship with the hyenas, and so the idea was foreign - he could not hold any compassion for them, and so he abided by your law without question - and I say, of all the laws in the land, I've never heard of one more tenuous than that."

He frowned and padded back over to his mother. "And thus came my hatred, so ineffable and bombastic, but altogether somewhat justified - but horrible." He looked at her with a sad smile and again picked her up, bringing her near to him. His voice died to a whisper. "I was willing to wait, you know. He was obstinate in upholding father's law, but I was willing to wait however many years it took for my reign; but then Simba came along, and that was that." His voice trembled, and he soon felt the tears returning. "In my mind, it was the right thing to do, but when I think back on it, it feels wrong - oh so terribly wrong. He was a buffoon, but I loved him, as he veritably loved me in return, so many memories and moments of fervor lost in that one moment - he looked into mine own eyes before I cast him down, and looking at him, it was like he was sorry. Mostly surprised, but he seemed truly sorry, and not just for the hyenas, but for everything: for teasing me as a cub, for beating me up, for being dad's one and only," He spat.

"For this..." Slowly, Scar brought his paw to his old wound and ran his finger down it, sighing to himself. The tears began to trickle from his eyes, and in his chest he started to heave. For a while he sat there, sobbing in front of his mother's remains. When at last he stirred again, he let his forehead fall against hers. "You forgive me, right? Y-you understand...right?" He felt like a cub, pleading for his life. _Like my brother. _He whimpered, then kissed his mother on the cheek. "I'm so sorry. I love you."


	10. CAELYN

CAELYN

She lazed in the warm sunlight, her auburn fur aglow. Myria was bounding about in her usual sprightly manner, and the older lioness allowed herself a chuckle. Her daughter reminded her so much of herself in earlier years; she was jubilant and withouten care or worry, and her primary concern was play. Caelyn only wished she could be young again, but she was older now, and had been learned in the ways of the world - she had responsibilities to uphold, one of which was looking after her daughter. On that subject, Myria was chasing crickets a whit too close to some brambles. "Myria!" she called, rising to her paws and padding over. The young cub didn't hear, too prepossessed with the insect beneath her paws. Caelyn strode up beside her and gave a warm smile. "Myria, what did I tell you about playing near brambles?"

The young cub looked up shyly. "That they are pointy and hurt very bad and dangerous and I shouldn't go near them," she responded, the cricket leaping away as soon she was distracted. Noticing this, Myria let out a frustrated "Oh _man__,_" and flattened her ears in defeat.

Her mother laughed, giving her a pat on the head. "That's right."

"I almost had him, though!" she whined.

"You'll catch others." Caelyn smiled softly. "Why don't you go play with Kopa? He's sure to be awake by now."

The idea of this seemed appealing to the young lioness. "Okay!" she exclaimed, bounding off. She chuckled to herself and ambled over to a nearby acacia tree, her eyes transfixed on her daughter as she flopped down to relax. The cool umbrage was a welcome change from being out in the sun all day; the Pridelands, while fecund with water and prey, was slightly inhospitable due to the temperatures - and Caelyn conjectured there were only two of those: uncomfortably warm and uncomfortably hot. Withal, it was the best place anyone knew of for miles, and it was certainly much better than the Shadowlands. The lioness shuddered at the thought - how could beings live in such squalor?

She let out a massive yawn and then licked her lips, returning her focus to Myria. The cub had found her play-mate; they gamboled around and chased each-other. Kopa, fast at her heels, pounced and brought her tumbling to the ground in a cloud of dust. The lion laughed, the look of victory gleaming on his face. Within a moment, that look was switched to one of utter confusion as Myria threw him off and pinned him against the dirt. He wrenched himself free, defeated, and the two resumed their chase. Caelyn was about to grin when she saw where they were headed. _Brambles. _She sighed and rose to her feet, plodding over to them as quick as her wizened joints would allow.

"Myria, Kopa!" she called out. Upon hearing their names, the two cubs perked up their ears and stopped dead in their tracks. She gesticulated to the thicket behind them.

"Oh, right..." her daughter said, "Sorry!" Giggling, they resumed their chase in the opposite direction. Smirking, Caelyn returned to her tree.

Being a mother was difficult work, and she wasn't entirely acclimated to it yet. Her physical condition didn't assuage the situation either, considering she spent most of her time chasing her cub around. She cringed as she inadvertently leant too much weight on her right elbow, quickly changing her posture. _I'm still not used to that, either__,_she thought ruefully. A year ago she would have been fine with jouncing about - but during a more recent hunting trip a wildebeest had trampled her in its panicked attempt to escape. Despite Rafiki's best efforts, the bone never healed properly.

As she was watching the cubs, Sarabi had appeared beside her. The former queen took a seat, smiling casually at the cubs. "How's things?"

"Wearisome, but good." Myria had bounded up a rock, out of Kopa's reach. The younger cub growled in frustration as he tried haplessly to jump after her.

"It is tiring work."

Caelyn looked at her uncertainly.

"Being a mother," Sarabi clarified.

"Ah, yes. My apologies."

She laughed. "No apology required; I'm sure you're exhausted."

"I am," she admitted. Kopa, having finally scaled the rock, was discomfited when Myria leapt back down, making a face at him. "They're going to drive each-other mad," Caelyn observed.

"Good couple material, right?" They both shared a laugh.

_Jocular__ as always, Sarabi. _"If you don't mind me asking, and I'm deeply sorry if you don't want to discuss it, but...Mufasa," The old queen winced at his name - luckily Caelyn didn't notice. "was he ever, you know - well..." She motioned towards the cubs as if to imply her meaning. Sarabi thought for a moment.

"You mean did he ever bother me?"

Caelyn nodded.

"Sometimes..." she began, a smirk touching her lips, "actually, most of the time."

The younger lioness chuckled. "How so?"

"He was always the impetuous sort; most of the decisions he made were on a moment's notice - lots of times I wondered how he kept the kingdom running, though I also knew that there was wit behind the whimsy." She paused, watching the cubs for a moment. "Things he did might have seemed like folly at the time, but eventually it all worked out. Maybe that was happenstance, but he did a good enough job. Certainly better than-" she shuddered, "well, the less said about _him _the better." Caelyn pursed her lips silently, remembering Scar and his despotic reign all too well. Myria had managed to pin Kopa again, laughing in victory. She quickly grew confused, though, when Kopa pulled her very own trick on her and brought her to the ground.

"Quick learner." Caelyn said. They both chuckled. "So why did - actually, nevermind." She glanced away uncomfortably, wondering if she had said too much.

"Why did...?" Sarabi's eyes widened, realizing what she had meant to ask. "Oh, well I'm not entirely sure." She frowned. "Which is to say, I'm not sure at all."

Caelyn sighed, regretting she brought it up. "Right, sorry."

"Again, no apologies necessary." Sarabi forced a weak smile. Her eyes grew distant, as if trying to recall something. "I've sometimes wondered, myself," she began. "Mufasa was a whit petulant, always quick to snap. The whole reason Scar got his scar was over a quibble. Mufasa was quick to realise his error and tried to mend it with apologies, but apologies can't fix a wound that's deep enough, emotional or physical. Maybe it was that, though I am dubious-" At this she got up and stretched. "Anyhow, I should probably be going."

"Of course." She nodded, avoiding the queen's gaze. _I should have kept my mouth shut._

"Want me to look after them?"

Caelyn looked up unexpectedly. "Pardon?"

"The cubs." Both of them were still chasing each-other, seemingly ignorant of anything else.

"Oh, well - I don't mind if you don't?" The younger lioness smiled awkwardly.

Sarabi chuckled. "Not at all. In fact, I miss maternal duties; of course, I baby Simba every once in a while, but he doesn't exactly appreciate it."

"Alright, if you insist." She laughed and nuzzled Sarabi on the shoulder. "Perhaps I'll pay Rafiki a visit about my arm. Good luck!"

"I'm sure I'll need it."

Tenebrific clouds had rolled in by the time she reached the old baobab. The wind coarsed through her fur, but the air was still uncomfortably warm. _There'll probably be thunder__,_she thought, looking up to the ebony skies. _Perhaps even some rain. _Caelyn looked around, but there was no discernible sign of the baboon. She cleared her throat. "Rafiki?" No answer. He was probably still asleep. "Rafiki, don't make me climb up there."

A moment passed, there was some faint rustling, and then Rafiki poked his head of a vestibule. He gave an amicable grin and a wave of the hand. "I'll be right with you." He reappeared out of a gaping hole in the tree, then climbed prudently down its side and landed deftly on his feet. He wiped his hands, then gave her a curtsy.

"Not bad," she remarked.

"Thank you," he replied with a laugh. "What can this one do for you?"

"Just my monthly check-up."

He tapped his chin in thought. "Well, you walked here, so you must be improving a tad." He smiled. "I conjecture it wasn't easy, though. How much did it hurt?"

"Immensely."

"I see." He squatted down and gently took her arm in his hands. She grimaced, but remained quiet whilst he mulled it over. "Well, nothing's changed for the worse as far as I can discern." He gave her a smile. "Maintain your quondam exercises, don't put too much strain on it, and you'll be alright."

"Not straining it would be easy if I didn't have a cub to chase after."

Rafiki chuckled. "Yes, yes I know." He looked around curiously, scratching his head. "Where is she, anyhow?"

"I left her with Sarabi."

"Ah," he said with a nod. "Very good, then."

"Sorry to bother you about such a trivial thing, by the way," she said, lowering her head shamefully. "I just-"

"Want to know if you'll hunt again; I know." He sighed, cupping her face in his palms. She looked up at him and frowned. "I am only an old shaman, not a magician."

The lioness pulled away from him. "I know, but you don't think it's a possibility?"

"Well," he said, gazing at the clouds above, "You have many years left in you, and still have a lot of esprit; one can never know for certain."

She grinned weakly. "I can only dream."

"Is there aught else we can ever do?" he said with a guffaw. "No, I imagine not. Every thing must dream, even if the dreams are diminutive; for to dream and to have faith in that dream is a panacea for the soul."

"I'm sure some would dissent and tell you it's a curse," Caelyn said facetiously. "But thank you for the words of wisdom."

Rafiki grinned and gave her a curt bow. "Anytime."

She nodded and turned to leave, and was about to when a fluttering of wings and a cacophonous squawking arrested her attention. Upon further scrutiny, she saw it was Zazu, and he was headed straight for them. _He's in more of an uproar than usual, _she thought, furrowing her brow.

"Rafiki!" he cried, landing between them. "Rafiki, Caelyn!" He waved his wings madly, pointing this way and that. "Ser Rygen!"

Rafiki held out his hand and rubbed his temple with the other. "What is it, Zazu?"

He drew in a deep breath, composed himself, and then with a tremulous voice he attempted to recount the story. "Rygen, he's been hurt, and-"

"How?"

"A hyena attacked him, t-tried to tear out his...jugular, and he didn't succeed! B-but, he's hurt badly, bleeding profusely. Please, this is a highly exigent situation!"

Upon hearing this, Rafiki's eyes widened. "What about Trentos?"

"Trentos was fine the last time I checked, but he may be in danger."

"Alright, I'll go see what I can do," Rafiki said, hastening towards his tree. "I'll get whatever herbs and tinctures I can. Caelyn?"

"Yes?"

"Go home and watch over Myria."

"It will be done." She bowed her head, cast a furtive glance at Zazu, and begun the long, painful journey home.


End file.
